I went to Dalmahoy, where we were most kindly received.  It is a point of friendship, however, to go eight miles to dinner and return in the evening; and my day has been cut up without a brush of work.  Smoked a cigar on my return, being very cold.

February 25.—­This morning I corrected my proofs.  We get on, as John Ferguson said when they put him on a hunter.  I fear there is too much historical detail, and the catastrophe will be vilely huddled up.  “And who can help it, Dick?” Visited James Ballantyne, and found him bearing his distress sensibly and like a man.  I called in at Cadell’s, and also inquired after Lady Jane Stuart, who is complaining.  Three o’clock placed me at home, and from that hour till ten, deduct two hours for dinner, I was feaguing it away.

February 26.—­Sent off ten pages this morning, with a revise; we spy land, but how to get my catastrophe packed into the compass allotted for it—­

    “It sticks like a pistol half out of its holster,
    Or rather indeed like an obstinate bolster,
    Which I think I have seen you attempting, my dear,
    In vain to cram into a small pillowbeer.”

There is no help for it—­I must make a tour de force, and annihilate both time and space.  Dined at home; nevertheless made small progress.  But I must prepare my dough before I can light my oven.  I would fain think I am in the right road.

February 27.—­The last post brought a letter from Mr. Heath, proposing to set off his engravings for the Magnum Opus against my contributions for the Keepsake.  A pretty mode of accounting that would be; he be——.  I wrote him declining his proposal; and, as he says I am still in his debt, I will send him the old drama of the House of Aspen, which I wrote some thirty years ago, and offered to the stage.  This will make up my contribution, and a good deal more, if, as I recollect, there are five acts.  Besides, it will save me further trouble about Heath and his Annual.  Secondly, There are several manuscript copies of the play abroad, and some of them will be popping out one of these days in a contraband manner.  Thirdly, If I am right as to the length of the piece, there is L100 extra work at least which will not be inconvenient at all.

Dined at Sir John Hay’s with Ramsay of Barnton and his young bride, Sir David and Lady Hunter Blair, etc.

I should mention that Cadell breakfasted with me, and entirely approved of my rejecting Heath’s letter.  There was one funny part of it, in which he assured me that the success of the new edition of the Waverley Novels depended entirely on the excellence of the illustrations—­vous etes joaillier, Mons. Josse.[261] He touches a point which alarms me; he greatly undervalues the portrait which Wilkie has prepared to give me for this edition.  If it is as little of a likeness as he says, it is a scrape.  But a scrape be it.  Wilkie behaved in the kindest way, considering his very bad health, in agreeing to work for me at all, and I will treat him with due delicacy, and not wound his feelings by rejecting what he has given in such kindness.[262] And so farewell to Mr. Heath, and the conceited vulgar Cockney his Editor.